A broken heart
by Lucey
Summary: takes place during 1x04 A broken heart. This was written a while ago. It’s supposed to be the first in a series of fics but they are not yet written. The series is called The Syd and Vaughn Plane Series and it’s about moments between these two that happen


By: Lucey

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to J.J., abc…not me.

Timeline: S1, during the episode 1x04 - A broken heart

Rating: Mh…PG, I'd say.

Pairing: mh, if there is any, it's S/V

Distribution: my lj for now. If you want it? Ask :o)

Feedback: This is my first Alias-fic so feedback would be awesome!

Note: This was written a while ago. It's supposed to be the first in a series of fics but they are not yet written. The series is called _The Syd and Vaughn Plane Series_ and it's about moments between these two that happen off-screen. I'm filling in some blanks. No spoilers, just canon and what might have happened. Mh, guess that's all for now. Hope you like!

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**A broken heart**

He went home, his mind restless. But at least he knew that she would be alright. They had stood at the pier, listening to the sound of the waves breaking – for how long he didn't know.

She had called him. Him, of all people.

He had been surprised. Worried that something had happened to her and yet he couldn't deny the smile that had crossed his face when he saw the caller ID on his cell phone was hers.

She had needed someone to talk to and she had called him. Of course he agreed. He could fool himself, pretend it had been for strictly professional reasons, his duty as her handler. Who was he trying to fool? He would have gone no matter what. Why?

Because he cared for her. Because after mere weeks of knowing her he couldn't imagine life without her.

He sighed, entering his street. Was he in trouble?

Maybe.

What was happening to him? How did she manage to turn his life upside down in a few days?

She had walked into the CIA, bruised and battered, barely able to speak with several of her teeth missing. He had told her he had taken her for a crazy person and it had been the truth. What other kind of person came walking into the CIA with a flaming red wig, suffering from severe injuries that would have put every other person in the hospital? Who else would demand nothing than that somebody listened to her story, heard her out? She had expected them to believe her, take every page she had written for granted. Only a crazy person would do that.

And only a crazy person would believe her without a doubt.

But he did. He told her he had an instinct about her. What else could he tell her? He saw her anger, her hurt and her passion for what she did. One look into her face told him she was telling the truth. He knew he wasn't acting professional. He knew his course of action would get him into trouble sooner rather than later.

And yet it seemed all worth it when she smiled oh-so-briefly.

Weiss told him he was too emotional. Maybe he was.

Alice knew he was hiding something – more than usual. His mind was elsewhere all the time and he did a poor job at convincing her of the opposite. They had fought. He had wanted to explain everything, feeling like he was cheating on her.

Did he? Did the fact that his thoughts were occupied not by the blonde woman he was seeing but by the brunette that had stormed into his life make him a cheater?

Probably not.

Still didn't change the feel of it.

As he rummaged for his key, his eyes fell on his hand. The tears that had passed on from her hand to his had long dried.

He had watched that powerful woman fall apart as she realized the madness that was her life. Feeling abandoned by her father, still grieving for her dead fiancé, unable to tell her friends what she truly felt, slowly realizing the full impact of her new job as an undercover agent. One of these things would have been enough to reduce anyone to tears and yet she was still standing. Heartbroken – but still standing.

She threw her beeper into the pacific, laughing through her tears and then she had reached for his hand, holding onto him for dear life. He hadn't flinched or tried to keep his distance - he had only fought the urge to pull her closer and hug her, to give her a shoulder to lean on.

Her guardian angel; that was what she had called him and the memory still lit up his face. He knew he wasn't being professional, that he should remove himself from her case before he became too attached to her. But he also knew that she needed someone she could trust, someone she could talk to, someone who didn't make her wonder if he, too, was lying to her. If she chose him as the one she trusted…

He had made his decision.

Steering her car through the late night traffic of Los Angeles, she realized she was able to breathe again. For weeks she had felt like she would suffocate any minute. Sometimes it was better, when she enjoyed a night out with Will and Francie or when she was working on her paper – sometimes it was worse, when Sloane's smile made her want to strangle him or when she thought about Danny.

Her dad had cancelled their dinner, leaving her alone when she already felt like the loneliest person on the planet. He made it pretty obvious that he wasn't interested in her – not now and not in the past. So why did she even care?

Because she did.

So, out of an instinct, she had called the only other person she could think of, the only person who knew enough about her to allow her to talk without having to consider every word.

She knew it wasn't professional to call him.

But she didn't need professional right now.

When she had walked into the CIA weeks ago she had barely registered him. She knew he had been in the room most of the time while she wrote page after page. He had brought her coffee and something to eat.

He seemed young, not even thirty years old.

But who was she to complain about that?

The only thing she instantly knew about him was that he cared about her. He cared enough about her to suggest a dentist and he made her smile despite everything on her mind and despite the pain.

She had written a lot, he said. It would take them weeks to verify everything. How could they be in need of verification when there was so much proof? The missions she'd listed, the persons she'd identified…wasn't that enough proof?

He had made her realize that shutting down SD-6 wasn't a two-month job but more likely a two-year job. Two more years of her life – for what?

She had thought she would never be able to trust anyone again. And yet, she had been shocked to hear he had been replaced as her handler. She had even got him a promotion.

Why?

Because she trusted him. She didn't know much about him except that the concern for her that was written all over his face was real. He cared. He listened to her ramblings and he was able to hold his ground against her.

He made her smile.

So what did that make him? Her handler? Her friend? Her… She shook her head. She was tired and way too emotional to think clearly right now. Danny was dead for a few weeks and yet she thought about other men? This didn't feel right. This couldn't be true.

And he had a girlfriend.

Not that it was important.

No…she trusted him. That's why she called him.

And he came. He came down to the pier in the middle of the night to listen to her ramblings.

"You have my number." He had told her. A statement, an offer and a promise.

With him by her side she had fallen apart, something she hadn't done in weeks. God, he was practically a stranger! And yet it didn't feel that way.

It was good to know that one person on this earth cared enough for her to listen. With him she didn't need to invent fake stories, leave out details or control her every word. She knew she shouldn't become too attached to him – and yet she did.

If she concentrated hard enough she could still remember the feel of his hand in hers, his thumb gently brushing hers while she lost it.

Parking her car outside her dark house she wiped the last traces of tears from her face. Time to enter another fake part of her life.

Only that this time it didn't feel so bad.

Why?

Because she got his number.

TBC…


End file.
